Hiatus Redux
by binkeybella
Summary: A slightly more pleasant version of Gibbs' return to NCIS following his Mexican safari. AU and probably a little OOC. Rating mostly for language.
1. Chapter 1

_**I know I said I wasn't going to write canon anymore, and this isn't, really. Just an AU, 'what if' version of the 'Hiatus' story arc, a lot more palatable for me than the actual one. And scouse, I think I had more … in this story than you did in yours! Also - **_

It was the call that he'd been waiting for. After almost four months of barely there communication between himself and Gibbs, Tony saw the magic number on his phone screen – Mike Frank's cell.

"Hey, Boss, what's up?" he asked casually, as if Gibbs were calling him from home on a day off and wanting him to go help him pick up something from the lumber yard.

"I'm ready, Tony." Gibbs' quiet voice responded on the other end. "Catching a flight in half an hour, I'll call ya when I get to the airport."

"I'll be there waiting for ya, Boss." Tony supplied, and hung up with a small, hopeful smile.

Tony estimated the time Gibbs' flight would arrive barring any delays, and as the fall weather hadn't brought any major storms to the southern part of the country, he figured he'd get there just about the time his boss was checking into customs. He occupied himself with games on his phone, looking up from it on occasion for the familiar face, tapping his foot nervously like an impatient teenager.

He had missed Gibbs in so many ways he couldn't count, but had kept it mostly to himself, not even letting on to Gibbs himself how difficult it had been to have had the man gone for so had been back briefly to help Ziva get out of a compromising spot with Mossad, but then had turned right around and headed back to Mexico as soon as she had been squared away. The older man muttered something of a half-assed apology to his ex-SFA, but the younger man had walked away not wanting to hear it. Too much turmoil, too many emotions. Tony had had to steel himself against it all, letting his anger at the man keep him from breaking down. If Gibbs couldn't find enough to make him stay after all this time, then he probably was never coming back, and that was a loss Tony didn't think he could bear.

But a week or so later, Gibbs had called him late one night, a little on the drunk side, and Tony had debated telling the man to call back the next afternoon when he was sober and not hung over. He didn't know if he could handle hearing the truths that Gibbs would inevitably tell while under the influence – that their friendship hadn't been strong enough or important enough to the man to withstand the tests of a coma-induced amnesia, and he'd rather spend the rest of his days drinking Coronas on the beach with his 'anything-goes' pal Mike Franks. That Tony didn't mean enough to him to come back to D.C and at least be an armchair Team Lead to help the younger man deal with subordinates who were oh-so-slightly pissed at him for not being Gibbs, and a director who seemed to be going off the rails on her own private crazy train.

But Gibbs had surprised him, so much so that he'd had to sit down while Gibbs talked, and when they were done, pour himself a few fingers of top shelf scotch he reserved for very special occasions.

"_Been doin' a lot of thinkin', Tony. Did some when I was up there last week, but didn't have time to really...think about it..I mean, think of how to say it in words...wasn't fair of me to leave again without talkin' to ya. Wasn't fair of me to leave the first time like I did, no warning or reason why...don't like havin' to explain myself, and couldn't 've explained it even if I'd wanted to back then...but..I sat on the beach yesterday..all day. No booze. Just me and the ocean. It was like my...brain just clicked, or...somethin' let loose...I dunno, but...a lot of stuff came back to me, not just the bad stuff from..when Shannon and.."_

Gibbs had choked up on the names of his girls, and Tony had waited patiently on the other end for the man to sort himself out a bit and continue.

"_Stuff from when we first started workin' together, and...what a team we made..better than Franks and me, cause you had somethin' I didn't have back then..back then I joined up with him to...well, it was for all the wrong reasons, Tony. You may have been comin' off a bad situation in Baltimore, but...you were still doin' it for the right reasons..anyways...tryin' to tell ya that I decided after all my preachin' to ya I'd better..well, start practicin' some of what I was preachin'. Rule Number One..."_

There was a pause, and Tony realized that Gibbs was waiting for him to fill in the blank.

"Never screw over your partner."

"_And the Corps rule number one...never leave a man behind. You've never done either to me, Anthony, and I had no right to do it to you..I left you high and dry with a team that wasn't ready to be left with you...and before you start yellin' about it, I said THEY weren't ready..not that you weren't ready to lead them. Saw some of their bullshit when I was there last week..my gut told me I'd screwed the pooch, but my head didn't give a shit. It does now."_

"What're you saying, Gibbs?" Tony queried cautiously. He wasn't at all sure where this drunken, surprisingly lengthy confession was leading, or if it was leading anywhere at all besides the 'one more reason to be pissed at Gibbs' list.

"_I'm saying I wanna try to make it up to ya, Tony. I wanna try to get my life back, if you'll let me. I want another chance from you, to show ya I'm not a...a total screw-up, that I still have some things...some people...in my life that MEAN something to me. That who and what I was four months ago is not what I really am now.."_

"You want your old job back, Gibbs?" he asked quietly.

"_I won't beg ya for it, Tony, I won't come stormin' back to D.C and raise a ruckus for it. I was the one who walked away, you were the one I picked to take my place...and to pick up the pieces... But I don't feel like I'm done yet, feel like there's still stuff left unfinished. Don't wanna alienate ya anymore than I already have, Anthony. That's..that's something I'll regret no matter WHAT you decide..Wanna try and fix what I broke when I left..if that's even possible. And if you tell me to go take a flyin' leap, I'll understand that. Just...needed to ask ya. If it was possible. To come back and lead the team."_

Gibbs wanted to come back, and take over again as team lead? Was that even possible? Hadn't the Director filed his retirement papers months ago? And what was there to say that he wouldn't just take off again in another snit when things weren't going the way he wanted them to? Hell, things hadn't exactly gone the way _Tony _had wanted them to all those months ago and he hadn't left everyone in an emotional and workplace lurch to go off in a pissy fit. He'd had a job to do, no matter that some folks didn't believe he could do it. And Gibbs was drunk off his ass right now, he _had _to be to be admitting all this stuff, to be groveling to his ex-second in command. There was no precedent for something like this, that Tony knew of anyways. He'd spent countless nights in a dark place over the fact that he had yet again been demoralized and abandoned by someone he trusted, someone he held in the highest regard as mentor and role model. And now he was supposed to just welcome the man back again with open arms?

Gibbs heard Tony's hesitation, heard him thinking by the silence on the other end of the phone.

"_Ya gotta trust me, Tony. I was in a world of hurt when I left, you KNOW that. And I didn't know who anyone was or who I could trust...just...flashes and pieces of memories...but I remember now, most of it, anyways. You meant a lot to me, Tony. You were...my other kid. My boy."_

Well, hell. What was he supposed to say to _that? _What he even supposed to _think _about that? Was Gibbs just saying that to get back in his good graces and get the team back? Gibbs started talking again before Tony could process any of his last words.

"_I...I need that back, Tony, that...whatever it was we had..more than..more than I need the team..but I can't come back and hole up in my basement till I croak. Gotta do something worthwhile or I'll..."_

Tony had a pretty much knew what the 'or I'll...' would lead to. Basically, Gibbs would crawl into a bottle of rot gut bourbon and stay there until they carried what was left of him up the stairs and on to Arlington. That was something the ex-SFA knew deep down in his gut. And no matter what had happened in the last four months, Tony wasn't about to stand by and let that happen to Gibbs. Wounded as he was, Gibbs' wounds went even deeper, and pride wouldn't allow the younger man to continue carrying his grudge, now that he knew about Gibbs' loss of his wife and daughter. Everyone deserved a second chance, and Gibbs had _apologized _to him, for Christ's sake. Had _asked _him, albeit drunkenly, if he could have his team back. And it wasn't like McGee and Ziva were making it easy for him to lead them with their constant put-downs and reluctant order-following. And _someone _needed to put the Director straight about exactly what her priorities were, and the only one who could do was Gibbs.

"Sober up and call me back tomorrow afternoon, Gibbs. If you still wanna come back, I'll get you a flight home. We'll figure it out as we go."

Tony heard a heavy sigh on the other end. He could only imagine what it must have taken for Gibbs to call and tell him he wanted his job back. Well, probably a lot of tequila, but still, it had taken more than that for a man like his old boss to even consider spilling his guts and admit he had made a bad decision under terrible circumstances.

"_Thanks, Tony...this means..a helluva lot to me..I wouldn't ask anyone else, but I know you..understand me..sometimes better than I understand myself."_

"Let's see if you can even find your passport in that dump Franks calls paradise before you start going all sentimental on me, Jethro."

"_Yeah...know it's here somewhere..I'll look for it tomorrow."_

"You do that, Gibbs. Call me when you find it."

And that was that. Gibbs had hung up and Tony figured if the man was really serious, he would find the thing and call him back to have Tony book a flight. And though Tony swore he wouldn't worry about it one way or the other, he spent that night tossing and turning and coming into the office dragged out and on the wrong side of the mattress. He couldn't tell anyone why, and couldn't concentrate on the work at hand. By two 14:00, he had had enough, and sent surprised and grateful McGee and Ziva home early, then finished his paperwork and headed home himself. Just ducking into the elevator, his cell phone rang.

"Hey, Gibbs." he answered quietly, even in the privacy of the elevator.

"_Found the damned thing down the back of a chair. Let me tie up a few loose ends down here and I'll_ _be back in touch."_

"Okay, Jethro. Sounds good."

Tony hung up and pocketed the phone. Well, he wasn't going to hold his breath. Either the man meant exactly what he had said or he had gotten himself so shit-faced he didn't remember anything of it other than he needed to find his passport. Not knowing for sure was going to be torture for Tony, but he was used to ambiguity. Nothing had ever been black and white for him when it came to Gibbs except that he knew he wanted to work for the man until Gibbs retired. _Retired for real, because he was retirement age, not because of a scrambled brain and a past too hideous to have to relive.._

It was going to take some doing, re-adjusting to it all if Gibbs actually _did _come back stateside and the Director was able to re-tract the his retirement orders, not the least of which was how it would look to the rest of the agency, not to mention McGee and Ziva. His status with his team was already tenuous at the best of times, and if Gibbs came back and just took up where he left off as if nothing had changed...Tony loved the guy like, well, like however it was that Gibbs loved _him_, but he wasn't into career suicide anymore, and he especially wasn't into the grief it would bring him from Tim and Ziva after he was demoted back to SFA. And God, McGee would be demoted to just being McGoo, McGoogle, Mc.. Tony wondered how badly Tim wanted his old boss back. 

Well, there was only one thing to do. Tomorrow morning, he would stop and buy coffee and donuts, and hold a campfire first thing. From there he would know which way to run the ball if he got that call from Gibbs. His gut told him he would be simultaneously relieved and thoroughly demoralized by what they would say when he laughingly told them he'd had a dream that Gibbs had come back to D.C and demanded his MCRT Lead job back from Tony. His gut was right. Both McGee and Ziva had swooned over the thought of their former boss regaining his seat in the bull pen, and neither noticed the vacant look in their current boss's eyes as they went back and forth with their wishful thinking.

Tony had his answer. Now it was just a matter of wrapping his _own_ head around the very real possibility of Gibbs returning and taking his old desk back.

_**TBC...**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hmmm...this story was supposed to be a one shot. So it goes. Many thanks to all who reviewed and followed/favorited.**_

_**Also, occasionally I get reviews regarding my seeming A.D.D for my fics. Most of the time I take them in stride and in good humor, because, well, hell, it's totally true. But honestly right now I want to address the issue, not just for myself, but for every fic writer on this site. A recent review of this story stated that the reviewer was hesitant to start reading the story as I have seemingly left readers in the lurch with several other stories. I went back and searched my stories, because knowing my midlife crises- chocolate- sugar-black tea and Disaronno fried brain, I figured I could have left half a dozen unfinished fics and forgotten about them. Seriously, just one recent one, Cabin Fever, out of 44 fics, which isn't too bad of a record, I don't think. "Unconditional" is an on-going series and added to when the muse wanders in, like my "Refuge" series. **_

_**The point that I really want to make is this. I myself get disheartened at having to wait long weeks for new chapters/conclusions to a few of my favorite fics. But I also realize that the writers who provide them are human. We have life crises by the bagful just like anyone else – family illness/death, personal illness, demanding work and/or school schedules and work-loads, children/spouses/parents/pets who need extra attention, social commitments, and sometimes, just plain writer's block/burnout/mean reds, that keep us from getting our fics finished. I doubt any of us start out writing a story intending to leave our audiences hanging any longer than a week or so, but most of the time, real life has other plans, so please...be patient and kind to fic writers, who provide this entertainment for free and on their own valuable time. It has always been, and always will be, a privilege for me to read other author's fics, and I'm so very grateful for their time, talent, and effort in providing them for my continual catharsis and delight. I'm also very grateful for the folks and friends who take the time to read and review my own fics, and will always do my best to finish what I've started. (Even though I do and write some not so bright things with my stories sometimes. Er, does "Messin' With their Heads' ring any bells?)**_

_**This is a short chapter. Just trying to get in the swing of things again, long work hours, and family obligations that eat up my time.**_

LeRoy Jethro Gibbs had been afraid of very few things in his life; he had been raised to face things head on and deal with them, and the Marine Corps had only deepened that trait. When his coma-damaged brain had started firing on more than a few cells a couple of weeks ago, he was appalled, even for him, at some of the things he was pretty sure he had said and done in the aftermath of waking up and being thrown back over fifteen years into the past. Mike Franks had assured him that it was normal, that Gibbs was in no way responsible for what had transpired while he was lost in a world of physical and emotional pain. Whether he was responsible or not, Gibbs knew he had some ground to cover in making right what he had put wrong without realizing he was doing it.

He could recall his gut telling him back then to stop, and think, and try to remember, or at least choose his words and actions more carefully, but his brain had over-ruled it, clouded as it was with confusion and grief, and loss of control of his place in the world. He had snarled and growled and barked, clawing at anyone who tried to reach out and help him. Gibbs had reminded himself of a wild animal caught in a trap, terrified and desperate to get out of it even if it met gnawing off his own limb to get away, if only to find a safe place to curl up and die.

He had been the fiercest to Tony, who'd been the one bravest enough to try to reach out and extract him from his agony, and to keep reaching out even after he had gotten slashed and bitten in the process. Tony knew loss on a visceral level, Gibbs remembered that now, but hadn't then. And he knew there had been more of it for Tony since he'd been in Mexico, though it wasn't something tangible the younger man had been able to convey to Gibbs. Hints of it in short, disjointed conversations when DiNozzo had called him in desperation, exhausted and nearly hopeless from trying to keep the team and Abby from falling apart. Gibbs had only half-listened, impatient to his needs and oblivious to what could be so hard about leading a team he had been SFA for for almost two years, and all but told the Probie boss to man-up and get on with his job. The calls became fewer and far between, until there were none at all, which suited Gibbs just fine until he had started to get his memories back, and belatedly realized the damage he had done.

He couldn't grasp all of it yet, but he knew it was serious, that what he had done and then said to his former SFA would cast a wet blanket over their once lively relationship. Tobias Fornell had filled Gibbs in on some of the facts of what was happening in his absence, information that he wasn't willing to hear

then, that confused and tortured him even more than he already was. Fornell had been furious at him for taking off to Mexico again without resolving things with his team, with DiNozzo in particular, but Gibbs had given him back a dark, icy look and told him to mind his own business. Fornell had shot back that Tony _was _his business now, that someone had to watch out for the younger man because his own team sure as hell wasn't, and neither was the Director. Gibbs had shrugged, neither understanding nor caring what the Fibbie was trying to tell him. He needed to get back to Mexico and help Mike finish building his hot tub.

When he realized weeks later what Fornell had been hopelessly attempting to get through his addled head, he'd nearly broken down with guilt and regret, but he knew from experience that they were useless emotions, and neither one would help Tony. The best thing he could do for his ex-Senior Field Agent was to make the effort to get his head out of his ass and live in the here and now, and maybe seeing things through a new perspective would help Gibbs himself, help him find a new path or at least a new direction.

So he'd gathered up his intestinal fortitude in a decent bottle of tequila and made the call to DiNozzo, who had matter-of-factly answered the phone and told him he would be happy to escort him home from the airport if he was indeed serious about coming home and _staying _there. Gibbs didn't need to hear the words to read in between the lines from Tony's tone of voice that if his ex-boss was just drunk and blowing smoke up his ass, he could stay drunk, stay in Mexico, and stay out of Tony's life. That had hurt Gibbs more than he cared to admit even to himself, and it made him more determined to clean up his act and the mess he had made of his old team, but especially Tony.

Fornell had laid it all out in painful detail of how difficult things had been for DiNozzo to suddenly be thrust into the Lead Agent position, with no warning or preparation for the role, and with a team that already resented the hell out of the fact that he was Gibbs' SFA, and was now their boss. Tony knew they were grieving the loss of Gibbs in their own ways, but he had managed to put aside his own feelings for a more appropriate time and place than venting on his co-workers and making their lives more miserable. Abby had surprised him most of all with her ruthless reminders of who he wasn't, instead of being supportive of who he was and what he was dealing with. Making matters worse, the Director was bent on using Tony for what was seemingly becoming a less than above-board undercover operation, pulling her premiere MCRT's Lead Agent in too many directions. Fornell had been unable to talk the younger man out of doing her bidding, with Tony claiming that as long as he worked for her, he followed her orders, even if he didn't understand them and they made his life a lot more difficult than it already was. She needed him, even if no one else didn't, he'd claimed, and Fornell felt the full brunt of a director taking advantage of an agent's insecurities and weary, scattered thought processes. Now it was Gibbs' job to come back and put right what shouldn't have gone wrong to begin with.

Gibbs had no idea what his former probie had gotten up to since he'd been gone, but ex-partner and lover or not, the Gunny seethed at her, or anyone, using DiNozzo's weaknesses to their own advantage, at least when it wasn't him trying to solve a case and eradicate the weakness through positive reinforcement. He knew better than even Tony what made him tick, with a pretty good idea why the younger man's clock was off-kilter, and had determined soon after hiring him it was going to take some doing to reset it. And he thought he had gotten pretty close doing it until the bomb on that ship had robbed him of most of his last fifteen years of memory, except for the very worst parts. His team, his closest friends were vague apparitions floating around his battered brain, and it had taken every ounce of intestinal fortitude that he'd had just to get through re-grieving his girls, he just hadn't had the energy or desire to search the recesses of his mind and match up memories with faces with names.

It was easier to just retreat to the sea.

And the sea had tended up helping him, clearing his head and regathering his strength with its healing waves and endless sunsets. Sitting on the beach watching the sun go down, he was pretty sure that it had been many years since he had allowed himself time to just relax and do nothing. Drinking and working on boats didn't count, he realized. He had not sat and vegetated just for the sake of regrouping his body and soul since before he had joined the Corps, and now that he had for days on end, he determined that it actually was a good thing. Some part of him recalled DiNozzo going on about the joys of hanging out on the beach and how it replenished the soul, and how at the time he'd fluffed it off, figuring bourbon and boats on dry land worked just as well. When he got back on an even keel with his job and Tony, he was going to take the kid on vacation down to Mike's place, and let him bake in the Mexican sand for a few solid days. An apology of sorts for what he'd put DiNozzo through the past few months, and maybe for dissing the kid's lofty praise of warm, sandy beaches.

Right now, though, he needed to concentrate on finding out what Director Jenny was trying to accomplish and why, and put an end to it if it stunk even half as much as Gibbs' gut was telling him it did. If he found out she was trying to punish him for leaving by using Tony as bait for a hinkey undercover op, she was going to find herself on the wrong end of his wrath, former probie and lover or not. If he had remembered anything from his past with DiNozzo, it was the burning need to protect

him, although his brain was still fuzzy on the details of why and when it all started. He was confident now that he would figure it all out, or at least enough of it to know where to start to make things right with his former SFA. He owed it to Tony to make the effort, and something told him that that was all the younger man would ask.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Okay, I'm pretty sure I write wayyy too many author's notes, and I know for sure I'm probably too sensitive to be a bona fide published writer. But I really need to clarify this 'cause I seem to not understand what it is I'm writing. I listed this story as 'AU', but a reviewer commented that it wasn't AU, it was off-canon. Which I actually had never heard of before and had to take some time to think over and compare the two. I still believe it to be AU, as in canon, as far as I understand, Tony had no contact with Gibbs while he was in Mexico, and the way Gibbs behaved towards him I seriously doubt he would have called his ex-SFA to come pick him up from the airport, much less apologize to him, drunk or otherwise. In canon Tony had no clue that Gibbs was staying and consequently taking his job back from him without the courtesy of one word, just his crap piled back on his desk. That's what I'm trying to fix. And the only way to do that is write it AU, because this story will go pretty much against canon to those episodes all the way through. Beause I hated that story arc. Along with a lot of other ones the show writers cranked out.**_

Being promoted to Team Lead, even by default, was supposed to have made Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. finally feel 'all grown up' in a the minds of of a lot of his colleagues, and perhaps finally force him to _act _a bit more grown up, too. They were all crossing their fingers, and it wasn't lost on Tony that they were also all holding their collective breath, wondering if he would fail, perhaps even expecting him to.

Filling Gibbs' boots was a tall order, and anytime in the past when Tony had imagined himself actually doing so, he imagined things so totally different than the reality of what happened. But that was pretty much the story of his life – his fantasy one versus his _actual _life, the one that often sucked more than he would care to admit to.

In times of carefree meanderings, he would visualize Gibbs retiring on the very last hour of the very last day of his very last year permitted by the agency, and even then going grumbling and swearing all the way to the parking lot, maybe even escorted by armed security guards. After he'd calmed down and realized it was a good thing after all, he would wander in at will, checking on his former second, casually nosing around to make sure things were being done the way they should be, _his _way, and that Tony wasn't putting himself in dangerous situations or taking up too much of the slack to make sure cases got solved. Tony would wander down to his former boss's basement, pizza or take-out in hand, beer for himself, and chew over any tough cases or team situations that needed a second opinion.

Gibbs would finally finish a boat, sneak it out of his lair, and invite Tony to sail down the coast with him on his two-week vacation. Life was sunny in his fantasies, where the man who meant the world to him hadn't hopped a plane to the west side of Mexico without properly handing over the reins, leaving him to flail wildly on the inside and be forced to maintain a steady presence and calming voice of reason. Only Ducky was perceptive enough to read the new Team Leader's eyes and see that, far from feeling 'all grown up', Tony was feeling decidedly childish, along with all the other insecurities he thought long-buried that were bubbling to the surface.

Even if he _had _had better support and less whining from his team and Abby, Gibbs' behavior towards him had wounded him deeply, and he felt the man's loss as a surely as if Gibbs had died from his injuries instead of abandoning him to go hang out with old Boss Franks. When Ziva had summoned Gibbs to call in whatever marker he owed her, which Tony knew there surely was to be able to draw the reluctant man back to the states after Tony himself had been unable to, the knife had gone in again, a bit more jagged this time. It had twisted when Gibbs came back at Fornell's beckoning and Gibbs'

had ratcheted up the B-volume on his bastard meter for Tony in particular.

After Gibbs went back to Mexico the second time, Tony was pretty sure he didn't care if the man ever came back if that was how it was going to be between them. The more Tony had tried to reach out to him when he was back on D.C soil, the nastier Gibbs treated him, even openly insulting his ability as a Lead Agent by throwing in his face the fact that both Ziva and Fornell had had to call on a half-functioning mute to help them solve their problems. It had set the scene for even more derision and disrespect from McGee and Ziva, and the older man's unannounced arrivals and departures were putting Abby on the verge of a meltdown, which she somehow managed to blame on Tony, stating very bluntly that he should have been able to convince Gibbs to stay each time, and maybe he didn't really want to, that he liked being in control now that The Boss was away in Mexico. He knew it was coming from a wounded, confused part of her, but it didn't keep it from hurting him any less.

That's why he had been non-committal when Gibbs had phoned him in a drunken haze and confessed his sins, seeking absolution and his old job back. Problem was, Tony wasn't sure if he wasn't just being soft-soaped by the man in order to get him to relinquish the Team Lead position and be demoted back to SFA. It wasn't that Tony even loved the job that much, he'd been happy being Gibbs' second. He just didn't like being bullied and manipulated by anyone, even Gibbs, whom he knew to be a champion at both skill sets. If he stepped down from Lead Agent, he was going to do it _his_ way and make Gibbs earn it back, make the man prove that he was serious about staying and rebuilding what had been ripped apart by the explosion and Gibbs' subsequent actions. He loved and respected the man, even after his hurtful behavior, because he knew that somewhere inside the wounded, raging bear was unspeakable loss and sorrow, and hopefully if given enough time, the rage would recede like it had years ago and the original grumpy, but often compassionate man Tony had first met in Baltimore would emerge again.

He couldn't begin to imagine what the consequences of even attempting to reinstating his former boss would be, as he knew all too well the frame of mind Director Shepard was in at the moment, and probably was not going to be 'out of' any too soon. She was not only pissed at Gibbs for taking a hike without her permission, she was also pissed at Tony for not accepting a lucrative promotion she had offered him to go lead a team in Rota, Spain. He had very directly turned it down, his gut telling him that she had an ulterior motive for offering it to him, though he only vaguely could guess at what it might be.

Her personality had changed abruptly shortly after Gibbs' departure; she had become distracted and snappish to just about everyone, and Tony wondered if she was hiding some illness or other important personal issue. Whatever it was, he wasn't about to head to sunny Spain and leave his team at the mercy of the mercurial woman, no matter what they thought of him, and she grew ever more short-tempered with him, in the most professional of ways, of course. There had been a couple of rather questionable undercover ops she had sent him on, ones that she wasn't sure were even sanctioned by her bosses, and he was loathe to keep accepting them, other than that he couldn't see any way out of them except for quitting, and that wasn't an option, either. Either way she had him, so he did the ops and hoped he lived through them to get back to his team, because something still niggled in the back of his head that without him running interference for them, she would use them for her own ends just as she was using him.

He had tried to find a way to tell Gibbs about it both when he was first in Mexico and then when he had come back to the agency. His mention of Jenny Shepard behaving in anything less than a professional manner had nearly gotten him a black eye from the older man, and an accusation that he would never be happy no matter where he worked or who he worked for, so if he didn't like his job, he could go coach high school football somewhere. There had been days since then that Tony had seriously considered searching the want ads for just such a position. But without him in the bullpen to keep an eye on the Director, he had no idea what she would do – send McGee on some hare-brained black ops and get him killed? Fill his Lead Agent position with a know-it-all power monger who get _both _McGee and Ziva killed? Right now he was ready to do damage to both of them himself, but leaving them to someone who wouldn't watch their sixes was an unconscionable thought and one he wouldn't even entertain.

Well, baby steps with the whole mess, he thought to himself. One challenge at a time. First was to actually see Gibbs walk through customs at the airport and make sure that the man was certain that this was what he wanted. Tony wasn't going to let himself be put through that again. He had told no one, not even Ducky, that his former boss was contemplating coming back. If for some reason the less than steady Gibbs had a change of heart and couldn't bring himself to come back to them, he refused to be the whipping post for his team and Abby's anger and disappointment. Better to wait a bit and see how the wind blew, and if it brought the Silver Fox back to D.C.

Tony checked his watch again and let out a tired sigh. The flight was late, and he'd only allotted a certain amount of time to be gone from the bullpen before the fiery Director came looking for his head. He wasn't sure if Gibbs was going to be mentally and emotionally strong enough to handle the challenge of setting his ex-probie/lover to rights again, or even if he could, but if someone didn't do something, Jennifer Shepard was going to bring the wrath of hell down upon herself, and worse, the agency she once loved. Tony sometimes wondered if she didn't have a brain tumor or something, like the crazed woman who had sent plague spores through the mail that he had ingested and almost died from. Gibbs' leaving the agency, alone, couldn't have sent her off the rails, it had to be something else, or a combination of something and his leaving. He knew their back story, knew she had given Gibbs the heave-ho to pursue her career and climb to Directorship, she wouldn't have been that shattered about the man heading south. Whatever it was, it was driving her beyond reason, and he knew she was no longer capable of making safe and sane decisions where agents and covert operations were concerned.

So many things to put right, and some of them Tony wasn't sure if they could be, or even if they _should _

be. Besides, it wasn't his place to do the righting, he hadn't caused any of this mess, he had merely been a handy lap to dump it into. And some of it he didn't _care_ if it got put right, he was so burnt out and disgusted with how things were. He was pretty sure he wanted to get things back on track with Gibbs; after all, the older man had taken the first step to get there, and that was a major deal to Tony, who had seldom had anyone take the higher ground with him when things went sideways. He could at least try to meet Gibbs half-way and see what happened.

As for McGee and Ziva, he was still on the fence about their non-support of him, and their sometimes blatant insubordination. Abby was another story altogether, one that he would have to take baby steps with, too. He had expected more from her when the rubber hit the road. Tony guessed it would depend on how she treated him after Gibbs got back home, and _if _the ex-boss got re-instated as MCR Team Lead. He knew Gibbs was going to have to pass psyche evaluations and a stringent physical; those two things alone were a little 'iffy' in Tony's mind if Gibbs wasn't any more with it than he had been during his last visit. Frying his brain on tequila and a summer-hot Mexican beach wasn't going to help his cause, either. He hoped the man wasn't expecting to be able to just jump right into his old job the day after he got off the plane. Tony knew that, in the past, Gibbs had been a strategist, taking time to learn the lay of the land, the capabilities of his enemies, and what he himself had to work with in the way of weapons and ammo. He hoped at least some of that had survived the bomb blast, and would work in both their favor.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony really didn't know what he had expected when he met Gibbs at the gate, but he sure as hell hadn't expected the beach bum that he almost didn't recognize, searching past him in the crowd for the real Jethro Gibbs. The man's hair was long and shaggy, lightened by sun, and he still sported several days worth of beard, not to mention a flowery shirt that would have done Thomas Magnum proud. The worst part was the mustache, and Tony had to clamp his jaws shut to keep from commenting on it. But really, he was so glad to see the older man that he could live with the thing for a while until he was able to get the guy to get rid of it.

"Wasn't sure you'd actually be here." Gibbs announced quietly as Tony grabbed one of his bags and they headed out to the car.

"Why wouldn't I? This is the time and flight number you gave me."

"Thought maybe you'd think I wasn't gonna show up and you'd have wasted a trip to the airport."

"You said you'd be here, Boss. I believed you."

"Not your boss, DiNozzo."

"Always my boss, Boss. You're looking good, nice tan, by the way." he added, changing the subject of bosses and who was one and who wasn't. He'd had his fill of trying to keep his team together, and spent many a night by himself doing paperwork at this desk wondering if it was worth it to even try.

"Heard you're having a bit of a time keeping things together with the team." Gibbs said, as if reading the younger man's mind.

Tony sighed inwardly as he unlocked the door of his Mustang and popped the trunk for the luggage.

He wondered who the spy was, or the tattletale, or both. Really, it could have been any of them. There was no reason to believe that he was the only one to have had contact with Gibbs while the man had been in Mexico, even if the party line was that he had no way of being contacted. Again, Gibbs must have heard the mental sigh, or maybe Tony hadn't kept it as private as he had thought.

"Wasn't diggin' at you, Tony. Just saying what I heard."

"Let me guess. Abby? Ducky?"

"Neither one, though they're both worried about you."

"Huh. Wouldn't have figured that from Abby. She spent most of her time telling me that I wasn't you and never would be, so to quit trying."

"She was hurting, DiNozzo, she lashed out." Gibbs shot back defensively.

Tony came close to blurting out a few home truths, but didn't think getting in an argument with his passenger was conducive to a pleasant, or even safe, drive, so he bit his tongue. Again. Ducky had told him once about primal scream therapy, and until now he'd forgotten all about it, but maybe he'd Google it when he got home and see if there were any local chapters he could look into.

He watched the traffic ahead of him and merged into the lane heading back towards Gibbs' place without a word. Maybe this hadn't been the great comeback that he thought it would be. Gibbs eventually tuned in to Tony's now sour mood, and sighed himself, but not inwardly.

"She shouldn't have told you that. You didn't ask to be thrown into Team Lead, and yes, you _were _ready for it, they just weren't ready for you. Maybe I indulged her too much."

Tony was just dying to come back with the proverbial "ya think?" on Gibbs, but he himself had been guilty of indulging the Goth lab rat on many an occasion. And he had never attempted to tell her how much her words hurt, not wanting to make yet another enemy on an already shark infested island.

He kept driving without comment, concentrating on the heavy traffic headed home from work.

"She was so lost after Kate -"

Tony unconsciously gripped the steering wheel. This conversation was going totally in the toilet, and short of stopping and bodily tossing his passenger out of the car, he either had to take it or tell the man to shut up.

Gibbs had seen the white knuckling on the wheel, and realized too late he had struck yet another nerve. His memories had been mostly pieced back together on Mike's beach front, but his mouth had seemed to forget how to verbalize what he was thinking. No, that wasn't right, either. He never hadbeen good at verbalizing, not even before the explosion robbed him of fifteen years of his memory. He'd never _had_ to much with Tony, they'd figured things out with looks and smiles and head slaps, and even occasional grunts.

"Didn't mean to start off on the wrong foot with you, Tony. Haven't really got my bearings yet."

Tony nodded, still not able to say anything without a hard edge in his voice. Was this how it was going to be? Gibbs going hot and cold on him, slamming him for running his team into the ground one minute and then giving him backhanded apologies by explaining himself the next? He'd had enough of wild mood swings growing up with his parents, he didn't need to have that back in his life now.

"Got it, Boss.. Gibbs. But you've gotta understand right here and now, I'm not putting myself up for whipping boy of the year anymore, I put up with it while you were gone to keep the team in tact, but if you come back as Team Lead, which I see absolutely no reason why you wouldn't – I'm not going to take what I took from them again, not even Abby. She wasn't the only one lost after...that happened."

"Yeah. I know. And I know I wasn't there for you afterwards."

Tony heard the veiled apology in that statement, too, and wondered just how many more he was going to get by the time he and Gibbs were done hashing things out, and they _would_ hash things out, Tony was certain of it, it was a no-go for him to just take up where things had been dropped when Gibbs had left for warmer climes. He knew it wouldn't be popular with Gibbs or any of the others save for Ducky and Jimmy Palmer, but that wasn't enough of a deterrent for him to back off the idea. He'd had enough of working on a team where feelings, his in particular, were ignored by everyone, including himself, and left to fester until he could no longer function as a contributing member. And he was too invested in this particular job and group of people, no matter the cons, to walk away now. But he knew he would walk away, no matter how difficult, if push came to shove and he let the past four months of hard feelings go unchecked. The issue of Kate's death and all the feelings that erupted out of that was another matter entirely, and Tony knew it was best left until the air had been cleared regarding his tumultuous stint as Team Lead.

"Well, it was a nasty time for all of us, Boss."

He sighed heavily, and Gibbs was at least in tune enough with his second to know when to drop a subject that neither was ready to run with at the moment. They both kept their thoughts to themselves for the rest of the ride home, and it seemed to calm both of them that they could relax a bit for a while they worked on getting their emotional footing back on a somewhat even keel, or what was even for them, both as individuals and as co-workers. By the time Tony rolled into Gibbs' driveway, they had had enough time to distance themselves enough from their prior conversation to feel a little more at ease, until Gibbs stopped dead in his tracks in the driveway.

"You pay for this landscaping, DiNozzo?" he barked angrily over his shoulder.

"Hardly call it landscaping, Boss. I spent a few hours out here weeding and transplanting. Did some edging with a shovel. It was therapy. Like your boat." 

Gibbs shoulders sagged with weariness. He had walked away from so much, had not even given a thought as to what would become of his house and lawn. At the time he didn't give a damn, didn't even want to look at it, such a painful reminder of his happy times there with Shannon and Kelly. He had grabbed his go-bag from his truck and headed off to see his old boss, hoping for some sort of miracle cure to his misery. Now he realized the only miracle to happen was the passage of time and steadfastness of his friends back home, his family. They had had more faith in him than he'd had in himself. He knew he needed to rein himself in in the harsh mouth department if he was ever going to even hope to make a fresh start with them.

"Looks good, Tony. I – I appreciate it. Figured the neighbors would mow the lawn if they got sick of looking at it."

"Took care of it. Hardly took any time to mow. Come on, let's have some lunch, I'm starving." Tony announced, grabbing up Gibbs' duffel and heading into the house.

"Still hard to come back to." Gibbs told him quietly.

"I know, Boss." Tony answered back, stopping at the door and waiting for Gibbs to open it. "But if you don't go in there, you'll never be able to, and in all seriousness, I don't think you could stand living at my place, you'd have my cupboards sanded down to toothpicks within a week."

Gibbs nodded, just a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, appreciating that Tony knew what he was feeling and still able to inject some humor into the situation. He pushed open the door and stepped into the foyer, struck almost dumb by the familiar scent of the place, with a few new ones added.

"Made some dinner for us before I left to pick you up. Fettucine alfredo with broccoli. You've gotta be hungry after all that travel time."

Tony made to head into the kitchen, and then realized that Gibbs wasn't following him.

"Boss? You coming?"

"Yeah, Tony, just – getting my bearings. Get the table set, I'll get some coffee started."

They worked around each other in the kitchen, as if both of their lives hadn't consisted of four months of pain and upheaval, as if the gaping chasm between them had somehow sealed itself over. Gibbs knew better than that, knew that Tony was just cutting him some slack by giving him time to readjust to being home, in the house that he had shared such wonderful memories with his wife and daughter. He didn't doubt that his SFA could and would forgive him, but it would come with a price, and if Gibbs wasn't willing to pay it, he knew he would be watching Tony clear out his desk and walk out of his life.

Gibbs wasn't completely sure _why _yet_,_ but he knew that would be unacceptable. They sat down to the simple dinner, both opting for milk with the meal instead of beer. He wondered just how much Tony had imbibed in his absence, knowing from Fornell the rocky road the young man had tread while his boss took a bender on a Mexican beach. Both of them reached for a slice of the Italian bread at the same time, and shared a friendly laugh at it. Gibbs sat back in his chair with a sigh as he buttered the oven-warmed slice.

"Tony, I – I know this doesn't count for much right now but – I just wanna tell you how much I appreciate you doing this. Means a lot to me."

Tony blinked across the table from him, showing his surprise at the man's confession.

"I'm not really doing anything, Boss. Picked you up from the airport and made you dinner. The rest is up to you. But as long as we're baring our souls, I gotta tell you. If we can't make this work, or if the Director can't figure out how to reinstate you...I'm not staying on as Team Lead. I'll find another team or go work for Tobias or I dunno, maybe become a consultant or something, but...I'm not going to lead the team I've got now."

He took a bite of pasta and some bread, waiting for Gibbs to digest what he'd just told him, wondering if the man would defend them like he had Abby. Tony knew he wasn't the only team member with whom his boss felt a familial tie , and had spent more time than he should have in the past worrying why Gibbs had taken to the two younger subordinates so quickly, especially Ziva. He'd admitted to himself that he was clearly jealous, and needed to get over it and grow up, which was a lot more difficult than it sounded even to his mid-thirties ears. Gibbs was the first person to really listen to him, even though it seemed like he never heard a word that Tony said, and the first authority figure who really took the time to look past the alter-ego Tony and find Anthony. As old as he was, Tony still felt the layers of insecurity and poor self-worth clinging to him that he had worked so hard to scrub off since being let loose on the law enforcement community.

The length of time it took Gibbs to speak almost did him in, but in reality, it was only a minute or so while the man finished chewing his mouthful of bread. He had kept his head down, so Tony had been unable to read his facial expressions to make any guess as to what he was thinking.

"What do you think the problem is, DiNozzo? You or them?"

Tony bristled at the question, his dinner starting to take a definite turn for sour in his stomach.

"Well, Boss, if I say them, I sound like a whiny, incompetent jerk. If I say me, I sound like an incompetent ass who doesn't deserve his own team! I'm not the _bad _guy in this picture, Boss, I tried making lemonade out of lemons, but there's not enough sugar in the world to sweeten up those two when they're on a tear!"

"Easy, Tony, just trying to get the facts here." Gibbs placated, wishing like hell they'd waited until he could have had a beer or some bourbon in him before starting down this dangerous road. "Not taking sides."

"Really. Like you didn't take Abby's side on the way home from the airport? You know what, nevermind, let's not even discuss this, I don't know what I was thinking, this had disaster written all over it before I even started."

"Tony.." Gibbs gently admonished.

"Yeah, I know, I'm being a drama queen, but you know what, it's like I'm back at home in Long Island, trying to defend myself from my idiot cousins who _knew_ no one _else _was going to defend me against them! I had no one in my corner, Gibbs, _no one, _not then, and not now! Not even Abby!" 

"Tony..." 

"Palmer tried to help, but Ducky was so futzed most of the time from being mad at you and trying to deal with Abby and the Director that Tim wasn't making out much better than I was!"

"Anthony."

Tony abruptly stopped his tirade at Gibbs' use of his full name.

"Ss – sorry, sir. Boss. I'll shut up and let you eat. I don't feel much like eating anymore, just...I'm gonna go, let you relax and get back into being here and maybe work on your boat."

"Boat's not important, Tony. Neither is dinner, though I appreciate you cooking it for me." Gibbs told him calmly, then wiped his mouth on a paper towel and stood up from the table. "I'm getting some beers and we're going to go out back and sit and talk."

"Boss." Tony stalled, sounding a bit desperate.

"Tony. This isn't going to go away for you any more than what made me run off to Mexico went away for me. We're going to have to face it, or neither one of us will be fit to be on any team, leading or following. Mistakes were made. We're going to try to fix them, or at least learn from them or we don't survive as a team. I know you're ready to toss us all into the Potomac without life preservers, but I'm not ready to lose what took me years to build, so let's go do this. I promise to listen to what you have to say without screamin' at you. Just too damned tired to scream anyways. Go on. I'm on your six."

Tony scratched his chin self-consciously, wondering if it really was a good idea after all to hash things out with Gibbs and an eight pack of Heineken. He headed out the door, guessing they'd find out in an hour or two.


End file.
